


Priscilla

by Denebola_Leo



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Beta Read, Regret, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 22:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20842847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denebola_Leo/pseuds/Denebola_Leo
Summary: "I didn't mean to take so long."





	Priscilla

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotatoVanGogh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoVanGogh/gifts).

> s p e e d w r i t i n g
> 
> at one in the morning
> 
> This took about two hours, but granted I wasn't focusing on this the whole two hours. Between coffee making and finding proper music...Yeah probably 1-1 1/2 hours or so.

“Hey, Mr. Dolphin. How’re you?”   


Cloud lounged on the newly built pier of Under Junon, casually talking to his cetacean friend. The dolphin creaked and squeaked at him, its head and part of its flippers sticking out of the water. The sunlight shined upon them both, the sea near the city slowly growing clearer year by year and sparkling with hues of blue and green. It was a beautiful day.

“I’m just here to visit a friend. Hm, it’s been a while for you, too, huh?”   


He held up a plump salmon he had bought not ten minutes ago, and dangled the treat above the dolphin, who grew excited immediately. “I’ll tell her you said hello, okay?”

Cloud let the fish fall, and Mr. Dolphin snatched it up, swallowing it down with a satisfied, long creak. It did a few leaps in the water for Cloud, making arcs of water and light in its tail’s wake in thanks. Cloud nodded a farewell before heading off the pier and into the shade of the sleepy town.

It was still like he remembered it; smoky, dark, but warm and peaceful. Under Junon was a small village that was populated mostly by fishermen and their families who refused to leave after the city was built above them. Reminiscent of the Midgar slums, in Cloud’s mind, save for a fresher breeze and more honest work.

Fenrir was parked by the wooden steps that led to Priscilla’s house. Quietly, he opened up one of the compartments, and with care removed a cupcake with a little candle sticking out of it. The top was coated with white frosting, and there were blue icing decorations in the form of many ribbons. Or waves, depending on how he looked at it. Tifa had baked it fresh this morning.

He looked up at the cozy little hovel, the lights long gone out and dust accumulating on the window panes. A sigh went through his nose before he turned on his heel towards the edge of town, his gloved hands cradling the sweet.

_ “Priscilla? Hey, Priscilla!” _

He winced a little as the afternoon sun again hit his face. His feet kicked up the dust of the Junon Wastes as he continued his contemplative walk. It had been a year since he had the courage to muster up the courage to visit the little girl they saved from a monster almost three years ago, and the memory made him wonder: for what purpose?

_ The little home was unnaturally quiet. There was just the low, barely discernible hum of the star shaped night light that stuck to the wall, next to the little ladder to her bed. Cloud understood; she was just really tired. He walked over with a small bounce in his step. “Hey, wakey wakey. I got a surprise for you.” _

The ground became crunchier as he walked up the incline. It was peaceful here, with a great view of the ocean. The perfect place to rest, he noted. That was why he chose here.

_ The little lump on the bed didn’t move. Cloud climbed up the first two steps of the ladder, then gently gave her covered shoulder a shake.   
_

Cloud reached the small plateau, the even soil the first to see the promise of future life. He licked his dusty lips as he noted the yellow ground flowers on the three mounds, as if a certain someone had visited here before him. It made him feel better, so that was what he was going to believe.   


If only he hadn’t screwed around...

_ “...Priscilla?” He squeezed her shoulder a little more firmly, and could feel a cold, thick fluid welling between her skin and the blanket. Pulling back his fingers, strands of black slime came up with them. Cloud let out an almost inaudible gasp, then brought the little girl onto her back.   
_

_ She was as cold as Shiva, black pus slowly trickling out of her mouth, her brown eyes half open and dull from death.   
_

“Hey, Priscilla.” Cloud paused, then walked up to the mound to the left. He placed the cupcake on top of it before sitting beside the grave. Fumbling with the lighter he brought, the little candle came to life, fighting valiantly against the breeze. Satisfied, he leaned back on an arm and took in the view. “Tifa baked that just for you. Vanilla sea salt.”

“...Sorry. I know you wanted to marry me, but Tifa’s a lot closer to my age, don’t you think?” A small, melancholy smile crossed his face as he remembered the little girl’s crush on him. Him, of all men.   


_ “Priscilla, wake up...please. Look, I finally found a cure!” He shakily popped open a flask full of the holy water from the church, then splattered it all over her. The pus rinsed off, but her body remained still. He shook his head before looking around helplessly. _

_ Would chest compressions work? How long had she been dead? His medical books said he had a ten minute window before brain death, but she was so cold...How long had she been dead? _

“Maybe we should have adopted you after your grandparents died.”

_ “Please wake up. I-I didn’t mean to be so late.” _

“Then again,” he sighed out in concession, “you said you wanted to stay near Mr. Dolphin. He said hello, by the way.”

_ Why did he let everyone convince him to party when so many were suffering? He had a job to do. _

Soon, he found himself hugging his knees and looking down at his boots. What else could be said? He wanted to say sorry, but…

_ “I’m sorry.” _

“It’s...peaceful here, right? You said it was when we buried them here. I’m just making sure.”

Cloud rubbed his eye. “I know the doctor said there wasn’t anything I could’ve done, but...I don’t believe him. You couldn’t have been gone that long,” he whispered out of his constricting throat. “You were fine the last time I came by.”

_ “Did you find a cure yet, Cloud?” _

_ “No, but I...I’m still looking for one." He nodded, ignoring the pain on his arm. "I’ll find it.” _

_ Priscilla clapped her Geostigma bruised hands together. “I bet you will!” _

“As fine as Denzel. And he was fighting, too. You both fought, and I-I just ran away. Are you sure you wanna marry a guy like that, Priscilla?” He looked over at the grave mound, the birthday candle still alight.   


His hand softly rested near the cupcake, a few small blooms brightening the greyish brown dirt. “Enough about that. It’s your birthday. Make a wish before you blow out the candle.”

He looked at that little flame, stubborn as ever. The melting wax continued to trickle downwards and onto a wave of blue icing. Since she wasn’t around to make a wish, he would make one for her: that she would find peace in the Lifestream.   


Before he could blow it out, a sudden wind from the sea snuffed it out, white smoke twirling about as the air stilled in its wake. Cloud blinked a few times, then looked out towards the ocean again. Everything felt like static.

After another minute the breeze began again, and the sensation eased away. Cloud stood up and dusted himself off, then nodded, still facing the sea. It was time to go back to the living.

“Happy birthday, Priscilla.”


End file.
